living in misery in the stable, which sad abode he looked into with a swelling heart. On the morning after his return, they were ready to embark in the three canoes that were in waiting to convey them and their belongings, when the old man was missed. Morton, guessing where he was, went to seek him, and found him kneeling by the grave of his wife. Reverently approaching, he whispered the boatmen were anxious to start, assisted him to rise, and, leaning heavily on his arm, led him to the canoe where he was to sit. One last look at the shanty his hands had built and the fields they had cleared, and a bend in the river shut them out from his sight forever. Resuming his wonted contented cheerfulness, he adapted himself to the change, and rose still higher in Morton’s esteem. When they reached the Basin, the wind was favorable for the bateau that was waiting to leave on her trip to Lachine, and there they arrived late in the evening. The following morning Morton left for Montreal with Mr Forsyth, the sons remaining to stow away the outfit in the bateau, which done, they also journeyed to the same place. That evening there was a quiet little party at Colonel Scott’s quarters, and next morning a larger assemblage, for every officer off duty in the town was present, to see the army chaplain unite the happy pair. When all was over and Maggie had gone to prepare for the journey, Morton received congratulations that he knew were sincere. “Why,” said Major Fitzjames, “she is fit to be a Duchess.” “She is fit for a more difficult position,” interjected Colonel Scott, “she has a mother-wit that stands her well alike in the circles of polished society and in the hour of danger and hardship.” “Who is this that is such a paragon?” asked Mrs Scott, who had just come in. “Mrs Morton.” “Oh, say she is a true woman, and you say all. Mr Morton you have got a treasure.” “I know it,” he replied, “and I will try to be worthy of her. She will be the benediction of the life I owe her.” The day was fine and, for a wonder, the road was good, so that a large party, many of them on horseback, escorted the newly married pair to Lachine. As they drove past King’s Posts Morton recalled his first visit to it, the spy, and all the painful complications that had ensued, and now so happily ended. As they stood on the narrow deck of the bateau, and the wind, filling the huge sail, bore them away, a cheer rose, led by Colonel Scott. It was answered from the receding boat, and Maggie waved her handkerchief.